


One Blink and Then You're Gone

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bisexual Character, Character Development, Depression, Episode: s05e19 Hammer of the Gods, Falling In Love, Family, Flashbacks, Fluff, Friendship, Gabriel's many forms, Gabriel's tricks, Group Therapy, Growing Up, High School, Hurt Dean Winchester, Insecurity, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Season/Series 10, Pre-Series, Pre-Stanford, Romance, Self-Worth Issues, Sexuality Crisis, Stanford Era, Supernatural Rare OTP Fic-a-Month Challenge, Supportive Sam, five things, group support, h/c_bingo amnesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Dean needed to be told he wasn't alone and one time he knew without being told.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Blink and Then You're Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Rare OTP Fic-a-Month Challenge for May’s prompt of ‘Author’s Choice (Free for all),' so I decided to write something I normally wouldn’t write and do a ‘Five Things.’ 
> 
> Also written for h/c_bingo during amnesty for the prompt ‘group support.’ 
> 
> Post Season 10 AU with flashbacks to 'Hammer of the Gods' and pre-series.

There was nothing to be ashamed of when asking for help, that’s what they told him. Unfortunately for Dean, there was no part of his life where he didn’t feel shame.

Except for Sam. Sam was that one bright spot in his life where Dean could actually manage to feel some semblance of respect for himself, because he raised Sam right and he knew it, and there was no form of himself that could draw shape that could convince him otherwise. His demon-self might call him a fuck-up, and that strange post-Apocalypse clone of himself might say that it was written in history that he would fail Sam, one way or another. Yet Sam was still standing. His gigantor, pain-in-the-ass little brother was still alive partly because of the sacrifices Dean had made, and how numerous they were, but also because his baby brother could take care of himself and was a force to be reckoned with.

That first part had brought many pains between the two brothers. Dean admitted he hadn’t been able to let go of Sam, but he still refused to apologize for that. Dean’s number one priority had been and would always be Sam. There was no kicking his brother out of his life or putting him on the back burner because Sam was the only purpose of his life. Dean didn’t know if Sam felt the same way, but it didn’t matter if he did or not.

Because as much as Dean feared being alone, couldn’t be alone, raged against the darkness not to be alone, he would most likely end up alone and it would entirely be because of his own doing. Not that he’d realize that at the time.

Dean didn’t have time to think about that now.

He had to sit in some damn chair that was as uncomfortable to sit on as a rock, and he had to spill his whole heart out in front of complete frigging strangers. He couldn’t say that his heart belonged to Sam, even though it did. He couldn’t say that everything he did, no matter how hard or self-destructive, he did for his brother because that just sounded corny and emo and too sappy to even be reality. He couldn’t tell the room that he and his brother almost ended the world but then saved it and that Sam had an angel inside him once and that Dean was a demon and that he was so sorry about so many things, he could barely admit that last one to himself without caving.

He couldn’t tell Sam that he didn’t want to be here. If he and Sam were going to work, then Dean had to take a step back and reevaluate both his life and his relationship with his brother. The co-dependency, the going way beyond having each other’s backs, the self-sacrificing and the drinking and the hiding and the lying. Sam was the one who wanted him here, Sam was the one who was sick of all of it. Sam was the one who thought he knew what was good for him.

What could Dean say? He had enough self-respect not to let Sam drag him here. So he said yes and he opened the door and sat down and officially joined the group. He clenched his jaw and mentally kicked himself but he stayed put and listened and dug his boots into the carpet when he wanted to leave.

They still went on hunts, not even Sam could give that up now, but they always worked around _this_. ‘Just an hour every week,’ Sam told him. ‘Just an hour, all to yourself. You need that, Dean. You need to stop putting me first and yourself on the back burner and you need to make some real time for yourself. It’ll be good for both of us, but it’ll especially be good for _you._ ’

Maybe Sam really was doing him a favor.

He went to the meetings for a month before Sam showed up during the group’s fifteen minute break. Dean was the closest one to the door when Sam knocked on the glass, looked in at him and waved. Dean threw him an ‘are you serious right now?’ look, but discreetly glanced behind him before opening the door and exiting the room. There was a smug look on his brother’s face and what looked like a steaming hot cup of coffee in his hand, and Dean suddenly felt proud of himself for staying and doing this thing.

“There’s already coffee in there.”

But Sam handed him the cup and Dean took it, sipping it tentatively. It soothed his nerves, which he still had after three meetings, and even though the liquid scalded his throat it also pushed him through the depression he’d found himself in of late and woke him up. Sam knew he could do this, Sam had faith in him. He wouldn’t fail at _this_.

“Figured you needed a better cup. Coffee in there’s probably lousy.”

It was cold outside and Sam was rubbing his hands together and blowing on them. It wasn’t like him not to have gloves on, or one of those beanies he used to obsessively wear during the winter of ‘97, that old red one that Dean would usually find him asleep in. Despite the sheer size of his brother he tended to get cold pretty easily, which was probably also why he was prone to cuddle when he was drunk or drugged, and also why he’d usually always be the one to wind up with hypothermia on a case so Dean had to strip the both of them and so Sam had a viable excuse to use Dean as a life-size teddy bear. 

Dean eyed him up and down, taking in the way his brother was stamping his legs on the carpet. He realized steadily that Sam wasn’t this careless, that Sam wasn’t just here to bring him a cup of coffee that Dean could have gotten just as easily in the other room.

“Why don’t you come inside and warm up? I’m sure you’re dying to hear your big brother talk about the time you had a cold and ran around in your underpants for nearly a week.”

Sam shoved him and managed to keep the relieved smile off his face, but Dean could read it in his eyes all the same. “Can’t believe you remember that, Dean.”

“Remember that? Hell, you wouldn’t let me leave your side that entire week. I’m never gonna let you live that one down, and there’s plenty more where that came from.”

Sam went quiet then, and Dean tried not to get angry at all the things unsaid between them and the fact that neither of them would ever step up and bridge that gap, but then Sam stepped closer to him and whispered in his ear, and Dean was grateful because he knew that door between them and the rest of the world wasn’t soundproof.

“I’m proud of you, Dean. And you’re not alone. I know things still aren’t great between the two of us, and I don’t know how it got to be this bad and if it can be good again, the way it was when you picked me up at Stanford because those days were _good,_ Dean. You didn’t poison my life. The only thing I do know is that I will fight for us and I will fight for you. Even if you’ll never be able to trust me again, you can trust me to never leave you. This place, this life, you having nightmares and problems to work through and needing to come here, that’s my life now. Tell me you’re hearing me, Dean.”

“I’m hearing you, Sam.” He needed those words more than he needed the strong hand on his shoulder, or the hot liquid raging in his veins, or the way Sam’s face had gone soft even around all the hard edges and those crinkles in his forehead betrayed the way he really felt.

Even if Dean’s life didn’t get any better, this was home for him too.   

* * *

 

Dean had a thing for a guy before he ever felt anything remotely serious for a girl. 

What he doesn’t tell Sam in the present moment is that he sought help before these therapy sessions. He knew being attracted to a guy wasn’t normal, wasn’t healthy, wasn’t _right_. But he also knew what his dick told him and didn’t tell him, who he was attracted to and who he wasn’t.

Theo Davies.

There was no ignoring that perky ass or the beginnings of a beard even at his age or the warm brown eyes that followed Dean around when he walked down the hallway, eyeing Dean and most likely amusing himself that Dean was eyeing him just as well. How could Dean not? He was one of the most popular guys in school and even though Dean was a freshman and Theo was a sophomore, Dean didn’t tell himself that he was out of his league.

For Dean Winchester, no one was out of his league.

“Hey, hot stuff.” There was a hand sprawled out on the locker beside his and a smile that seemed to be half-showing off and half-hiding. Theo’s eyes were guarded and the way he shuffled back and forth on his feet, drawing Dean’s gaze to his incredibly long legs, revealed something that not even Dean could have guessed: the guy was actually uncomfortable around him.

Even more noticeable, his breath reeked of butterscotch. Theo held out a piece of candy and popped another into his own mouth. Dean glanced down at his hand all the while and wondered if it was a trick, but Theo wasn’t pulling back his hand, not even when Dean made to take it. He was so nervous he almost forgot not to chew the hard butterscotch piece and thereby break his teeth in the process.

“We've got gym and home ec together, right?”

Dean knew he already was aware of the answer. He shoved the piece of candy to the side of his mouth. “Both useless.”

“Yeah,” Theo answered after a beat. Dean thought he saw his eyes sparkle for a moment, but that would have been too weird. He slammed his locker shut, relocked it and finally turned back to Theo, this time he hoped with a clear head. “Well,” he handed Dean another piece of candy. “Catch ya later.”

It was too late that Dean realized he had acted like a complete idiot and that Theo had been attempting to flirt with him for whatever reason, but luckily it wasn’t the end of the world, in any sense. Theo came up to him again the next day, with more candy and smiles and fortunately not more sparkles in his eyes. Dean imagined that maybe he could handle himself if it led to anything at all. He told himself that it was just a one-time thing.

It was. He never again had a fling with another guy, never again looked at a guy like Theo and _wanted_ , or to put it less mildly, never stuck his dick in another guy expecting something that he could get from a girl. Why? Because it wasn’t right and it wasn’t natural and Dean’s body had just been lying to him anyway, taunting him, trying to make him weak.

Dean did eventually do it with Theo, of course he did. Part of being a teenager was experimenting, or maybe it was just that insecure part of Dean that had to try it both ways before he knew what side he had to inevitably choose. It was more than knowing his Dad would tan his hide if he ever found out, it was Dean knowing he would be doing something sick and wrong, something he couldn’t come back from if it happened more than once.

So yeah, it was just that one part of Dean’s life, the one he would have to keep secret for the rest of his life, but it was also the best four minutes of his life.

When Theo looked at him it was like he saw so much more in Dean than there was. They were old eyes almost, eyes that seemed ancient but were kind nonetheless. When Theo touched him it wasn’t just like he knew exactly where to touch, despite only being a year older than Dean, but it was like he already knew Dean intimately. His hands were rough and calloused from helping out at the stables with the horses, but they were somehow soft and gentle whenever they rubbed the back of Dean’s neck or his fingers brushed against Dean’s cheek. He hung out with the juniors and seniors but when he wanted to be left alone he always had his head stuck in some book: Mythologies of the World, Home EC for Dummies, a beat-up romance novel that he dog-eared, pointing the steamy parts out to Dean and making him blush.

Theo made Dean feel like everything was worth the wait: dating, falling in love, taking it slow. He didn’t even pressure Dean for sex after the first date, and when Dean offered it during the second he said no, said he wanted time to get to know Dean better. He changed his mind the next day at school, revealing how much he wanted Dean and sliding into him quick and rough in the shower in the vacant gym locker room, then kissing him nice and long, whispering obscenities in his ear and making Dean squirm and making Theo pull him closer.

But time wasn’t on either of their sides.

Dean had known Theo for all under four months when his Dad told him they were moving to chase a hunt on the other coast. Apparently, he couldn’t leave Dean and Sam that many states over alone. Dean was pissed, infuriated even, but his Dad was even more livid when Dean put up a fight, demanding that Dean pack his and Sam’s things and to be ready to go come dawn. 

He had fled, not thinking, knowing he couldn’t and would never leave Sam behind.

Theo was more understanding than Dean had given him credit for; in fact, looking back on it now it was like he expected Dean to just up and leave. Though whether or not he had known that it was out of Dean’s control was still up for debate. Everything in Dean’s life had been spinning out of control. And maybe the high school sweethearts label would have applied to him and Theo ten years later if he had been allowed to stay. Or maybe it would have ended in chaos.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Theo reassured him. “Even if you have to move away. You’re not an easy person to forget, Dean Winchester.”

Theo stayed with him for the rest of the night, just so Dean didn’t have to be alone. For months afterward that’s all that Dean felt.

* * *

 

If Dean’s childhood was hard, then his teen years were even harder.

And if he’s just referring to his own teenage years, then he’s lying because Sam’s were just as hard.

Sure, Dean scrounged around for food and for money, and there was never enough for the both of them so Dean always drew the short end of the stick, on purpose, and sure, he had to make sure Sam grew up right, make sure that he taught him about the world, ensure Sam that he would always be there for him, there to change his diapers, to make him feel better when he got sick, to tuck him into bed at night and tell him wild stories that always made Sam laugh. That never changed, no matter how old he got. When Dean was sixteen he was still there for Sam when he had nightmares, he still made sure to feed him and clothe him and help him with his homework even though he was so much smarter than Dean could ever be.

But as Dean grew up and become a teenager he grew restless too. It was like there was an itch he couldn’t scratch. Sure, there was booze and some drugs and even sex, and there was plenty of it out there, but there was a sinking feeling every time he got back home for Sam - which ended up being later and later - that there was something missing, something he hadn’t attained for those few short hours.

Sam probably knew where he went, probably knew _why_ he went. He went to bars to play a few games of pool, never for fun and always with hustling in mind, but sometimes he’d pick up a girl too. Just to sate him. Just to take him that extra mile that hadn’t been achieved before. His baby and the open road and his music weren’t enough anymore. He needed someone for just those few seconds, needed to look into someone’s eyes and see himself reflected back.

When he was nineteen the itch just got harder to scratch.

Rhonda Hurley was a biker chick he picked up in one of those bars.

She had a fondness for purple nurples and she dug men in leather jackets and she could play a wicked game of pool. Naturally, Dean was drawn to her and just as naturally, the two of them ended up in her hotel room a few blocks down the street. The night may just have kicked off when Rhonda went down on him, but it certainly didn’t end there.

Even though she had just pulled back on her pink, satin panties, she gazed down at Dean seductively, never taking her eyes off him as she slipped them back down her legs. “I want you to do something for me.”

Dean licked his lips and nodded. He would have done anything she asked him to do in that moment.

The satiny panties were dangling from the tip of her index finger now, and there was a challenging look in her light brown eyes and a grin on her face that had Dean hanging on her every word. “I want you to put these on.”

“Uh....”

“Come on,” she coaxed. “I know it’s been a fantasy of yours.”

He snapped back to himself, startled even though she must have just been playing around. Still, something about her tone and her word choice never bid him able to forget her, even years later. “And how would you know that?”

She threw the panties at his head and they blocked his view. It seemed that everywhere he could smell her sweet scent: strawberries and cream, as sweet as strawberry pie. “‘Cause it’s every guy’s dream. Now hurry up and put them on,” she laughed. “They’re your color.”

Dean did what the lady told him to, surprised to find that he actually kinda liked it. More than that he liked the realization: that night he wasn’t alone, not when he was wearing her panties or when she was laughing at him and he was laughing back. 

* * *

 

Sam had gone to Stanford and Dean’s life had gone to shit.

Even though it was gonna turn him into a chick for even saying it, all the light had been sucked out of his life. He remembered the smell of Sam’s vaguely strawberry shampoo, mingled with the all too soothing scent of his baby brother. It remained in his clothes for a good month or two until Dean was forced to wash them and the scents were gone away for good, as if Sam had never been there at all. As if to increase the misery, Sam had left nothing behind, not even a shoelace or a discarded toothbrush.

It was as if he had never been a part of Dean’s life.

If Sam was the sole purpose of Dean’s life, and if Sam was gone, then what good was Dean?

John knew full well the strain that had been placed between them, the strain that hadn’t been specifically between the two of them before. Either he didn’t care or he didn’t know what to do. The hunts picked up, and it crossed Dean’s mind more than once that John wanted to get Dean’s mind off of Sam, that he wanted to keep his head in the game. But it didn’t help. He couldn’t concentrate and he fucked up, a lot, which only caused his father to scream at him but Dean never remembered what he said, always spacing out, shooting out a ‘yes, sir!’ only due to habit.

Habit wouldn’t save his ass though, and habit wouldn’t watch his father’s back either.

Two months without Sam and there was a large gash on John’s forehead, blood seeping out from underneath the bandage wrapped haphazardly around his leg and a cold glare that was thrown entirely at Dean. He knew he had a concussion, a dislocated shoulder and his ears were ringing too, but none of it seemed to matter now. Dean stared back at that hard, icy gaze for a while until he blinked and realized his father’s features had softened down and his hands were on his face, checking his pupils, brushing back his sticky, wet hair.

“You okay, son?”

He blinked again and he was flat on his back, staring up at the stars, his father’s hand curled around his shirt that was currently hiding his dislocated shoulder. “Yeah, m’ good,” he murmured.

John swiped a hand over his face and Dean tried not to space out again. Sam should be coming to them now, running up behind Dean, anytime now. “You know, we can skip ahead and you can start talking now. I’m ready to listen.”

Dean nodded but he didn’t open his mouth, didn’t think he could anyway.

There was a long silence and then there were words again, blood and tears and dirt and pain and words. Words that didn’t seem real, that _weren’t_ real. “It’s you and me now, Dean, and you better start getting used to that fact.” Dean waited, knowing he couldn’t drive to Stanford, even without taking into consideration the state he was in. “You’ve got me, okay? I’ve still got your back. Not everyone’s abandoned you, Dean.”

There were words whispering in his head then. _You’ll get through this you’ll get through this you’ll get through this._

The hands that brought his shoulder back into place with a sickening _pop_ somehow reinforced that belief.

* * *

 

Gabriel was stubborn and annoying and a dick.

He was also funny and clever and his grin Dean recognized, those eyes too. There was something familiar about them.

Dean brushed off that uncomfortable feeling because if he let his guard down around Gabriel he was screwed. He had to be the one to play Gabriel, even if he was a freaking archangel and always one step ahead of him. He had given the guy plenty of chances to be on their side and he always turned them down with plenty of bullshit excuses. Dean wondered what the hell he was afraid of.

He also wondered why the fuck he cared.

Gabriel didn’t give a shit about anyone else but himself. He looked at Dean and no doubt thought he was some toy to play with, and while Dean wanted so much for no goddamn reason to know what made wings tick, he also knew that caring would get him nothing but dead. A dead human to hang up on Gabriel’s Christmas tree next holiday season, another in his list of fatalities. Gabriel claimed he wasn’t one for killing, not like his brothers, but Dean also suspected his tricks knew no limits. If someone ended up dead then it didn’t matter because to Gabriel it hadn’t been intentional.

No. Dean did not want to end up dead in Gabriel’s hands.

But in that video, that damn video, Gabriel saved a deleted scene for him after the rolling credits, long enough after so that Sam was already in the car, luckily oblivious to Gabriel’s “special” message for him.

This time there was no knocking on doors and no mustache. Gabriel was sitting on the same bed that he had done unspeakable things on in the video, but the look on his face was nothing but serious and he wasn’t laying down now. Dean perked up and stared intently at the screen, waiting patiently for Gabriel to start talking despite not wanting to hear it. Gabriel was dead, so it didn’t really matter what he said now.

He was _dead_. Dean had gotten him that way: _dead_. Dead dead dead. There was no hiding away from that fact. He had been one of the good guys and Dean had failed him just like he had failed everybody else. He didn’t deserve any parting words with the trickster.

Gabriel’s look before handing him the video had been enough: _You’re on your own now, kiddo. Alone._

_Goddammit._

Sam yelled at him through the glass to hurry the hell up, so Dean pretended he was shutting down the computer. That was when Gabriel started talking.

“Hey, Dean. If you’re watching this then guess what? I’m dead. Yep, dead as a doornail. Save the tears though. I’ll keep this short, knowing Sam will probably be getting impatient. I’m sorry, Dean. But we both knew I wouldn’t be there with you at the end. This was how it was supposed to go. I played my part and now you’ll play yours, and I know you’ll play it well. Unlike my brothers, I do have faith in your kind. I have faith in you too, Dean-o. And yeah, that’s right, I am talking to you.” Gabriel stood up and Dean took a step back, eyes wide, swallowing repeatedly because his mouth was dry and there was no saliva to find. “You’re not alone, Dean. I’ll always be around somewhere watching. Tuning out now, kiddo. Good luck, since you’re gonna need it.”

Dean’s hands shook as he ejected the DVD and closed the lid of the laptop. If he imagined eyes on his back for the next week, it was because he needed them there.

* * *

 

Dean talked this time. He talked the first meeting and the fourth, the first because it was obligatory and the latter because Sam was there, but he skipped the second and the third, since sharing every time wasn’t only optional but there also just wasn’t enough time to cover everyone.

This was the fifth meeting and he considered it a success that he was getting more used to opening up and sharing. He had to be pretty vague about what he said, but no one else seemed to mind. It only meant that they imagined they connected with him when in reality they couldn’t even begin to understand the layers of guilt and grief and ptsd that Dean had trudged through his entire life, layers that only went deeper and deeper until Dean realized there was no bottom, not really.

So Dean shared, despite the fact that he wasn’t a sharing guy. The others offered suggestions and words of encouragement, and the guy on his left sometimes slapped him on the back when he suspected that Dean was going to choke up about something. At first he just waited until break time so he could get a crappy cup of coffee and those mini white powdered donuts, but after a couple meetings he actually started to listen to the others and even started drawing parallels to their life and his, because despite how different his and their worlds were, they were going through some of the same issues: self-worth, abandonment, clinging so hard to something without even realizing it, in a way that was far beyond the scope of healthy.

Right before he took his turn he realized that there was a newcomer who had yet to talk; furthermore, when Dean opened his mouth the stranger beat him to it.

“Hey guys. Name’s Lester. I’ve been around this block a couple times before, and it’s to my understanding that newbies introduce themselves during the first session, so I figured I might as well get this over with.” Dean glared, but the guy only smiled back. “Family problems are my biggest issue. Brothers who are dicks, one’s a self-righteous asshole and the other throws serious temper tantrums, but they’re both locked up now and hurray for me.” _Wait a minute_ , Dean thought, _this doesn’t feel right. “_ Guess my story’s a classic one, a runaway, someone who thought he could do better out there in the real world, but I ran into quite a few problems of my own.” He winked at Dean. “Go ahead, Dean. What were you about to say?”

Dean started off rocky, but then he calmed down and talked more about his relationship with Sam, how close they are, how it was that that had saved them but also fucked them over too. He talked about Sam leaving when he turned eighteen to do the whole college thing. He didn’t delve into how he felt too much, but apparently everyone got it because during break they all came over to talk to him, hands on his shoulder and words of apology and even that guy again, slapping his back as if to revive Dean from some nightmare.

And there was the new guy, standing near the door with his arms crossed, watching him, his gaze judgmental. Dean followed him as he walked out, knowing there was still five minutes of break left. He wanted to know what the hell this guy’s problem was.

He was waiting for him in the hallway when the door closed behind Dean. “Took you long enough.” The voice was different, it didn’t belong to Lester or whoever the hell this new guy was.

And then Dean _looked._

Those same ancient, brown eyes that glittered like amber in the sunlight, that same shit-eating grin. Dean’s heart beat wildly in his chest. He had seen it more than once before, in more than one person. He had been played, played his entire _life_.

“That was you? All those times, you dick. Theo. Rhonda. Cindy. Heather. That guy who tried to bribe me into becoming a prostitute.”

“Aw, Dean-o can’t handle having the same one night stand dozens of times.” Lester morphed into the shape he really was: Gabriel. Good old Gabriel. Gabriel who left him that DVD, who was supposed to be dead.

“It wasn’t dozens of times,” Dean defended himself.

Gabriel waggled his eyebrows and eyed Dean’s ass, and Dean wondered how familiar the archangel was with that part of his body, or rather, his body in general, because this conversation was suddenly where Dean _didn’t_ want it to be. “How would you know, bucko?” Dean just stood there, not able to believe what he was hearing. Gabriel sighed and continued, not even giving Dean time to process. “You were never alone, kiddo. All those times you thought you were out on the road all alone, there was always someone watching your back. Watching every stupid mistake you made from the other side of the world.”

“Tell me,” Dean breathed, remembering Theo and Rhonda and all those other dudes he was taunted by and chicks that he actually did take back to hotels and live a little with. “Tell me it wasn’t just a game.”

“Theo was a hot piece of ass, wasn’t he, Dean?”

“Tell me!”

“Okay. Okay, sheesh. What, you want me to tell you that it was always you? That I never had eyes for anyone else? If you can keep a secret, kiddo, I was just trying to keep under the radar and what better way than to pose as a human? School was boring, even while popular, but then I stumbled upon the infamous Dean Winchester. You were popular even back then, not just your father. They all knew what you would grow up to be, what you would do. Hey, I tried to stay away, but as that cheesy ass saying goes, you can't deny what the heart wants. You don't always get it either. I had to wait well over a decade for you, sweetheart. Fortunately, you were well worth my wait. It didn't turned out how I wanted it to, knowing you were going to hell and with me trying to knock some sense into your pigheaded brother, then the fact that I had to give my life for you and Sammy-kins. But like in a fairytale we still end up together, don't we? That is, if you'll have me?”

With a snap of his fingers, the familiar figure of Gabriel morphed into someone Dean hadn’t seen since he was a freshman in high school: Theo. With those ridiculously attractive brown eyes and those long, long legs that he showed off in tight jeans and that soft, guarded smile that could not ever be Gabriel’s. No, never in a million years.

But it _was._

His hand came up, thumb brushing Dean’s cheek. Soft. Warm. _Real._ “Miss this?”

Dean closed his eyes and thought, _Yes, so much_.

Gabriel laughed and Dean opened his eyes to see him again. Gabriel was just as attractive as Theo, just in a completely different way. Dean’s dick didn’t seem to mind though, the way it came to life from underneath his jeans. Gabriel moved closer, eyeing the bulge with intense interest. “You _have_ missed me.”

“Shut up,” Dean groaned, but he pulled Gabriel closer and kissed him anyway, kissed him for all the times he wanted to kiss Theo and for all the times he wanted to catch up with Rhonda again. Kissed him because he wanted to heal and not only because Sam wanted him to.

“Ready to get over all that pesky self-denial and start dating again? They always say the third date’s the charm.”

Dean may just have to skip the rest of the meeting for this.

**FIN**


End file.
